


but rather you would speak about what is just

by hihoplastic



Series: The Worst Witch Tumblr Prompts [22]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Minor references to mental illness and corporal punishment, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/pseuds/hihoplastic
Summary: It’s Hecate’s first conference, one she’s actually been able to attend in person, and Pippa is trying to be excited for her. Hecate is nervous, a bit more tense even than usual, surrounded by so many people she doesn’t know, so many people who know her work, but have never met her. She gets so many questions—where have you been all this time, it’s such an honor to finally meet you!, why didn’t you come to last year’s conference?, will you be presenting?, how is Cackle’s treating you?, what are your thoughts on elderflower in memory potions?
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Series: The Worst Witch Tumblr Prompts [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1014084
Comments: 18
Kudos: 120





	but rather you would speak about what is just

**Author's Note:**

> \- title from Sappho  
> \- for anon who requested “jealous Pippa + Miss Darkside”  
> 

It’s Hecate’s first conference, one she’s actually been able to attend in person, and Pippa is trying to be excited for her. Hecate is nervous, a bit more tense even than usual, surrounded by so many people she doesn’t know, so many people who know her work, but have never met her. She gets so many questions— _where have you been all this time, it’s such an honor to finally meet you!, why didn’t you come to last year’s conference?, will you be presenting?, how is Cackle’s treating you?, what are your thoughts on elderflower in memory potions?_

Hecate has handled it admirably, but Pippa knows she’s stressed. Can see the way she jumps every time someone bumps into her or puts a hand on her arm, the way she dodges questions and turns the conversation back onto the person asking. Pippa herself has been acting almost a buffer, staying close to Hecate, helping her extricate herself when she gets too overwhelmed, or shifting her body between Hecate and someone else so they won’t touch her. 

She isn’t certain Hecate has noticed, as overwhelmed as she is, but it doesn’t matter—Pippa would do anything for her, to help her feel more comfortable. 

Even if it means talking with the one person Pippa can’t stand. 

They’d decided to leave the conference center and go a few blocks away to have a quiet drink, somewhere without all the noise, somewhere they could talk, where Pippa could ascertain how Hecate is truly feeling about all of this. 

Instead, they’d barely finished their first glass of wine when a small group from the convention had shown up, Miss Darkside among them, and Hecate had gone wide-eyed. 

She’s spoken about her admiration for Miss Darkside’s work before, articles the woman has written on her pedagogy and research, and Hecate, while not quite fawning, seems to have an appreciation for Miss Darkside’s teaching that Pippa, frankly, cannot understand. 

As far as Pippa is concerned, the woman’s methods are outdated at best, cruel at worst. She’s overbearing and exceedingly strict, and refuses to even incorporate a hint of modern magic into her curriculum. Everything is traditional, without room for nuance, experimentation, or evolution. Everything about her makes Pippa’s skin crawl, from her perpetually narrowed eyes to her pursed lips to her dark clothing. 

And yet, Hecate seems to admire her greatly. So she does when any decent girlfriend would do—she invites Miss Darkside to join them at their small table in the back of the bar. Miss Darkside appraises her, looks down her nose at her quite literally, with obvious contempt, but agrees, sits down and turns her back to Pippa and engages only Hecate in conversation. 

Pippa resists the urge to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t complain. Instead, she watches Hecate’s face as they converse, the way Hecate’s eyes are focused and her hands still, the way she seems riveted by everything Miss Darkside has to say. 

She tries her best not to feel jealous. Miss Darkside and Hecate are far more alike—in mannerism, in dress, in appreciation for traditional forms of magic, and Pippa feels out of place sat between them, in her bright pink dress and blonde hair and unusual teaching methods. She tries not to wonder if perhaps, now that Hecate is free, if she would be happier with someone more like Miss Darkside, less like her. 

She pushes the thought away, and eventually tunes them out. She orders another drink, and then another, much to Miss Darkside’s apparently disapproval, if her quip about keeping one’s wits is to be taken seriously; but Pippa doesn’t care that the old crone thinks, and if the only way she’s going to get through this with a modicum of sanity is to be slightly inebriated, than so be it. 

She thinks about going to join the other witches that came with Miss Darkside, but she knows from experience that they’re just as insufferable. So she stays put, distracts herself by counting the tiles on the ceiling, by eavesdropping on other conversations, by doing anything and everything but listen to Hecate agree with Miss Darkside’s terrible opinions. 

If she’s honest with herself, it hurts. Hurts to see Hecate relate so much to someone Pippa finds so distasteful. To see Hecate silently agree with her teaching methods that Pippa finds abhorrent. She’s always known Hecate is far more strict and traditional than she is, but she always thought it was born out of deep love for magic and for teaching that they shared. Always felt that Hecate had her girls’ best interests at heart, above all else. 

But listening to Miss Darkside explain how abominable it is that schools are now mixed gender, how tragic it is that students can get away with anything these days, how wretched it is that punishment is not what it used to be, she isn’t certain anymore. Hecate has gone quiet, listening intently to Miss Darkside’s enthusiastic critique of modern pedagogy, and Pippa feels her stomach knot tightly. 

She loves Hecate, loves her more than she can bear, but the thought of Hecate agreeing with this woman, believing the things she says about her students, makes Pippa sick. She’s about to excuse herself—to spend far too long in the loo trying to get herself under control—when Hecate interrupts as politely as she can. 

“My apologies, Miss Darkside,” she says, “May I ask what the benefit is of a detention that does not utilize the time and space to teach or review material?” 

Miss Darkside scoffs. “It is not our job to reiterate information. If students cannot grasp the simple concepts as presented to them in class, then detention should be a punishment for misbehavior and inattention.” 

“You’d prefer students do lines?” 

“I’d prefer they were taken over a knee, but as that has been criminally outlawed by the council, lines will have to do.” 

Pippa slams her glass against the table, about to tell Miss Darkside exactly where she can shove her glorified abuse, when Hecate arches an eyebrow and says, a bit lower than usual, 

“Corporal punishment has been outlawed by the council because it is an ineffective practice. Studies have shown students who receive physical punishment for their actions or inactions develop mental illnesses that negatively impact learning.” 

“Not to mention it’s downright cruel,” Pippa snaps. 

Miss Darkside sniffs, but Hecate looks at her for a long moment, and there’s something in her gaze, something warning, asking for patience, and Pippa takes another long drink and quiets. 

“‘Mental illness’ is nothing more than an excuse,” Miss Darkside says. “There’s no such thing. Students can either perform or they cannot. We’ve gone far too soft on those who claim to have inexperience or ‘special needs.’” She says the phrase derisively. 

Pippa thinks of her own students, her own school, full of witches and wizards who learn differently from one another, who require more or less attention, who attend therapy, who need extra hours of assistance. They’re all bright and eager but most of all, they’re all children who require care and affection, not brutality. 

Instead of disagreeing with her, as Pippa hopes she might, Hecate merely taps a finger against the table. “May I ask, Miss Darkside, what is the retention rate at your Academy?” 

Miss Darkside purses her lips. “Admittedly, it has gone down in the last few years. Parents pull their children on baseless complaints and accusations, as if we are not their true caregivers ten months out of the year.” 

“I see,” Hecate says. “And the graduation rate, has that held steady in the past?” 

Miss Darkside looks at her, for the first time, suspicious. “Do you have a point, Miss Hardbroom?” 

Hecate pauses a moment. “As an educator, my duty is to both the magical training and welfare of my students,” she says, choosing her words carefully, “It is, as you say, deeply necessary to instill traditional values in today’s young witches and wizards, lest the old magic be forgotten.” 

Pippa stiffens, and looks away, unable to listen to Hecate agree with Miss Darkside, unable to stand her complacency. But when she looks back, Hecate’s eyes have narrowed on Miss Darkside, and there’s a twitch in her jaw Pippa recognizes as barely repressed anger, and she holds her breath. 

“However,” she continues, and Miss Darkside’s smug expression starts to fade, “It appears to me that some alteration to pedagogy and progress is necessary to keep our students well equipped to engage with the changing world. Miss Pentangle’s Academy, for example, has one of the most difficult entrance and exit exams across the country, and yet students there—witches and wizards—regularly outperform even Cackle’s on all standardized testing, which includes a healthy portion on traditional spells. A recent study from the Council—”

“The Council is useless,” Miss Darkside spits out, glaring outright at Hecate. “Full of modernists and bureaucrats who know nothing of a classroom, let alone how to run an efficient academy.” 

Hecate arches an eyebrow. “It would seem to me, Miss Darkside, that with your penchant for harsh discipline that in no way fosters a positive learning environment and your refusal to adapt to new methods of pedagogy, it is you who do not know how to run an efficient academy, let alone a classroom.” 

Pippa stares, wide-eyed, almost in disbelief; Hecate is almost frighteningly calm, and Miss Darkside blusters, nearly sneering, 

“I did not sit here to be mocked and ridiculed by—”

“No,” Hecate interrupts, her voice sharp, “You came here to humiliate Miss Pentangle, and attempted to use what you thought were my shared opinions in order to do so. I’m afraid that I shall have to disappoint you, however. I find your pedagogy outdated at best, Miss Darkside, and criminal at worst, and if you were ever to step foot in my academy, I can promise you, you would not last a day.” 

Miss Darkside stares at her, almost slack-jawed, and Pippa looks back and forth between them, stunned, as Hecate takes a careful sip of her wine. 

“Now. I would very appreciative if you were to rejoin your colleagues, and leave myself and Miss Pentangle to recover our evening.” 

Miss Darkside clamps her mouth shut for a moment and rises, staring down at Hecate with a murderous expression. “It is a shame Miss Pentangle has you so firmly under her thumb, Miss Hardbroom. I thought we could be better acquaintances.” 

“To be frank, Miss Darkside,” Hecate says, unflinching, “I wish we were hardly acquaintances at all.” 

Miss Darkside falters, then glares before forcefully pushing her chair in and striding away, and Hecate waits until she’s out of earshot before taking a slow, somewhat shaky breath. 

Pippa stares at her. Stares, and stares, and when Hecate finally looks at her, her expression is pinched, and she quickly averts her eyes. 

“It is not exactly complimentary,” she says softly, “That you so easily assume I would agree with such wretched ideology.” 

Pippa falters, feels abruptly, horribly guilty, and grasps Hecate’s hand across the table. “I’m sorry, Hiccup,” she says. “I just... you seemed so... enraptured, and you were so delighted to meet her I just thought—”

“What?” Hecate says, “That I would welcome a return to terrorizing students in the name of academic acumen?” Hecate doesn’t pull away, but she looks down at their hands, looks away. “I thought you knew me better than that.” 

Pippa swallows tightly, feels horrible, even worse when Hecate sighs. 

“It’s deserved, I suppose.”

“It’s not. Not at all, Hiccup,” Pippa says softly. “I know you would never to do your students the things Miss Darkside does, I just—never expected you to defend modern magic the way you did. You seem to loathe it so, I just—”

She cuts herself off, doesn’t know how to express her concern—that Hecate’s distaste of modern magic extends to a distaste of her. That her distrust of it is a distrust of Pippa herself. 

Hecate shakes her head. “I don’t hate modern magic, Pippa. I simply worry it will come at the expensive of traditional ways, that we’ll lose our connection to magic of old in our pursuit of something new.” She looks up at Pippa with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I fear it more than I hate it,” she admits. “And I fear that I am too set in my ways to learn it.” 

Pippa returns her smile and squeezes her hand tightly. “Based on what I’ve just seen, there’s hope for you yet.” Hecate nods, and Pippa stands, tugs her up with her. “Let’s go back. I want to kiss you absolutely senseless, and I know you’d rather I not do it here.” 

Hecate flushes slightly, but when Pippa moves away, Hecate pulls her back softly, and presses a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek. 

“I am not ashamed of you, Pippa,” she says softly. “And I never will be.” She smirks, and looks Pippa up and down. “No matter how much pink you insist on wearing.” 

Pippa laughs softly, a bit choked and keeps her hand firmly in Hecate’s the entire walk home.


End file.
